seven PhDs
by AGENT Kuma-chan
Summary: Bruce had seven PhDs and one of those would tell him what Thor wanted.


**Title:** seven PhDs

 **Prompt:** thor/bruce, fluff

 **A/N:** Written for the ThorBruce exchange, for graysonflynn. Takes place sometime after raganork since I actually haven't seen Infinity Wars yet. Hope you like it! (I kind of took the 7 PhD joke and ran with it a little too far. XD)

 **Summary:** _Bruce had seven PhDs and one of those would tell him what Thor wanted._

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"Here." With a loud thud, Bruce dropped a pair of metal gloves on the table. He gestured for Thor to take them with a satisfied smile. "It's for you."

Thor blinked, staring blankly at the gloves. A chicken leg was in his hand, the last remnants of supper, and slowly he put it down. At least, Bruce hoped it was chicken—they had been trapped on this space ship for the past few weeks, making their way back to earth, and while Bruce knew logically that everything he was eating was alien in origin, he didn't want to think too hard about what specific alien it was.

Scientific curiosity would be of no help if the answer disgusted him. He'd still have to eat it until they got home.

Pinching the heavy things with his fingers, Thor examined it. "Gloves?"

Well, to be honest, considering the amount of armour Bruce had added to it, they could really be called gauntlets. Still, Bruce nodded. "You use your fists a lot, so I thought these would be helpful."

Thor nodded, turning them over. "Thoughtful of you, but you will find my hands do not need them." As though to illustrate the point, he shoved his palm in front of Bruce's face, proudly showing off his calluses.

"And that's great but these aren't any ordinary gloves." Bruce took one back. Tapping on the metal plating, he added, "These are indestructible."

"Everything is destructible," Thor corrected.

Bruce rolled his eyes. After Mjolnir broke, Thor had become oddly philosophical about the relative strength of objects and the mortality of things. "Right. In this case, nothing short of the Hulk can harm them."

"Or me," Thor added, sounding a little miffed. "I would have beaten him the arena."

"Nothing short of the Hulk or you," Bruce amended. For an advanced alien race, these so-called gods were high maintenance. "Try them."

"So that's what you've been up to." Thor slipped his hands into the gloves, flexing his fingers. Curling it into a fist, he punched the air above him. "Most impressive!"

Of course it was—this was a little outside of Bruce's usual skill set, nowhere near the chemical or biological fields he preferred. He was no Tony Stark but Bruce did have seven PhDs, one of them in engineering, and he could invent with the best of them. "Great, I—"

His good mood was cut short when he saw Thor's smile. Despite how enthusiastic he looked, Bruce knew better. That was Thor's unimpressed face, his entertained face. There was nothing about that expression that indicated that he was amazed at all. Tone clipped, he turned and left the kitchen with a, "Good, glad you like it."

-x-

"Is this my cape?" Thor lifted the red fabric to the light, his fingers pressing hard into the cloth. The colour contrasted brightly against the grey ship walls, a beacon. "You fixed it!"

It was ridiculous to feel so happy about sewing up scraps of cloth, especially when someone had seven PhDs, several patents, and was technically a superhero. Still, Bruce averted his gaze, pleased. "It was simple."

"My love, you have still done a great deed today." Thor clapped his back before pinning the cape to his shirt. Giving it a firm shake of his shoulders, he looked over his shoulders at the cape. "Long has it been since I'd last worn this."

"Did you get rid of it for the arena fights?" Bruce asked, watching as Thor stared in the mirror, admiring the handiwork.

"No, they took it away along with my hair." Thor shrugged. "I do enjoy my new image too but…" He laughed childishly as he spun around in a circle, the cloak gently swishing behind him. "I must admit, useless as it was, I did enjoy it."

And this was exactly where Bruce came in. Grabbing the edges of the fabric, he stretched it with both his hands. "It's no longer useless! It won't tear easy and I have added some tech to give invisibility capabilities for stealth."

"Stealth?" Thor snorted, gesturing at his body. He set a foot down with a loud thud. "This is not made for stealth."

"But—"

"Besides, that is not the warrior's way."

Bruce closed his mouth, unable to argue with either point. There was a reason Thor was either the tank or the distraction in all their missions. He knew that, he had seven (seven!) PhDs which kept him aware of this fact, but there was a limited number of things he could do with a cape. Especially on a spaceship like this. There were few enough free materials as it was, and Bruce had never been creative.

Maybe he should have gone for an eighth PhD in the arts.

-x-

"Boots?" Thor sat on his bed, examining Bruce's latest gift. He turned them over in his hands, his fingers running over the material.

Bruce had lost track of just how many things he'd made so far, just that each was met with a lacklustre response. Gesturing at his boyfriend's feet, he muttered, "Just try them on."

"I should call you a seamstress." Thor pulled one on and flexed his foot up and down. "What did you do with these ones?"

"They can—" Bruce cut himself short when he saw Thor's expression. More curious than excited, the god was poking at the other boot experimentally.

Again. He had failed to impress again. A wave of irritation ran through him and he took a deep breath in. Slowly releasing it, he closed his eyes, trying to focus. It used to be easier to find the rage, to quiet it down, but now there was a mess of emotions when it came to Thor. After counting to ten, he finally asked quietly, "What do you want?"

"Hmm?" Thor looked up, his hand in the boot now, moving it like a puppet.

Louder, teeth gritted, Bruce repeated, "What do you want? Since none of those worked."

"Worked?" Perplexed, Thor set down the boot. "All of your gifts work."

"No, I mean…" Bruce bit his cheek. "I have seven PhDs."

"As you are fond of telling me." Gentler than he'd expected, Thor took his hands.

"And." He stared at their hands. "They are more useful than the Hulk. Though I have yet to prove that."

"I had a feeling it was like that." Thor laughed heartily, clapping Bruce on the back. He pulled him closer, wrapping an arm around him. "The Hulk is far handier in a fight, true, but I much prefer your company. I said as much before."

"I don't think you meant it then," Bruce pointed out dryly, remembering the situation.

"Well, that is also true." And while Thor's honesty was his strength, it was also a constant source of rage. "But I mean it now." Without warning, he kissed Bruce firmly, stealing his breath. A hand trailed down his back, pushing him closer, before just as suddenly releasing him. Pulling back, Thor added, "I can't do that with the big guy."

Bruce shuddered, shaking that image away. "I would hope not." After a moment, he gave his boyfriend a suspicious glare. "What did you mean, 'I had a feeling'?"

"Well, it was easy to guess why you kept giving me things." Thor gestured at the cape, the gloves, the towels, the boots, the—ok, so maybe Bruce had gone a bit overboard with this.

"And you didn't stop me why?" Bruce asked, his eyes narrowing.

"I like getting gifts." Thor grinned, not noticing at all the warning in Bruce's tone.

Briefly, Bruce considered if it would be worth it to lose another two years to the Hulk.


End file.
